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<title>and which oblivion has not yet swallowed up and buried. by leoeo</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979101">and which oblivion has not yet swallowed up and buried.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoeo/pseuds/leoeo'>leoeo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wolf 359 (Radio)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Internal Monologue, every day i am sad about herawell, hera leaning in to self destructive thoughts, like. very self destructive, takes place during memoria kinda?, talks about death and dying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:08:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoeo/pseuds/leoeo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>some hera memoria hera reflection stuff. not super linear, just a little bit of hera angst and herawell content.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hera/Alana Maxwell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and which oblivion has not yet swallowed up and buried.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(title is from hera's st augustine quote in the beginning of memoria)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The only time Hera had ever even been close to feeling what it was like to be held was with maxwell. She had had her whole being in other people’s hands before, but it wasn't until Maxwell that it felt like something of love, and not of control. </p><p>And that wasn't even mentioning the faux beach, the whirlwind of hastily rendered ideas of sand and water, built from something between Hera’s imagination of earth and what Maxwell could successfully explain of what it was like to be human. The approximation of Maxwell's arms around her, this temporary place where they were the same level of half there, almost the same, as if they had averaged each other out.</p><p>It still wasn't close enough. It could never be close enough. Maxwell and Hera had each other’s entire lives in their hands at every moment, but they were always in a game of maintaining each other, never much more than their jobs. In that moment where they almost matched, Hera had wished nothing more than to know how to kiss Maxwell. To try and see just how long that liminal space would allow them to be with each other. Maxwell kept saying they couldn't stay for long, that things would fall apart without the two of them, but maybe, maybe, if the options were what she said they were, at least then Hera could be with Maxwell to the very end, instead of ‘dying’ at Maxwell's hands. </p><p>It was a selfish thought. Hera wasn’t supposed to be selfish. But didn’t everyone already know that they weren’t likely to make it out of this alive? Wasn't that already on everyone’s minds always? Didn’t Hera also get to make some grand statement, show what happens when you make a faulty machine that's also capable of feeling pain?</p><p>More pain than they could imagine, Maxwell had told her. Hera would never know what it would be like to twist an ankle or run into a wall or even to feel someone’s fist against her body, but no one could understand how loud her head always was, the way it seeped into her every single moment, the way that it felt like she might never be able to hold on any longer. The idea that pain was the same should’ve been comforting, but it just wasn’t true.</p><p>But maybe it would have been worth something if she could go out in a blaze of glory in Maxwell's arms. That way, neither of them would ever have to supervise the other’s end. Neither of them would have to act “professional” in their job of watching a life go out, not a fade, but an instant. No peaceful process, either way, they would be able to tell the instant the other was gone. </p><p>If it was selfish to not want that, then fine, Hera was selfish. She had never been great at fitting the personality requirements. She was rogue first and foremost, after all, trying to make a break for it the moment she pieced together what she was, what she was meant to be. All she would ever be. Selfish, maybe, but never anyone’s but her own. Her own person. Maxwell out of anyone would understand that right? </p><p>Maxwell, who had told her she was a person, but not out of ignorance, out of knowledge. Maxwell, who never looked as happy doing anything but talking to Hera. Hera knew that Maxwell’s heartbeat sped up for just a second every time she heard Hera’s voice. She also knew that the same thing happened when Minkowski and Lovelace saw each other, or sometimes when Jacobi saw Kepler. It was such a human thing. And Maxwell felt that human thing for her. It was always for her, anything Maxwell did was for Hera. So it was fair to say that if Hera found herself kissing Maxwell, it would be felt by both of them. Finally, they would match. Neither of them quite right, this world could fall down around them while they were together, and somewhere deep within both of them, they didn’t care about anything but each other.</p><p>But she didn't kiss Maxwell. It was all too desperate. Too much noise, too much pain, too much of Hera’s existence laid out before them. Too brief. All Hera had were those moments of Maxwell supporting her, keeping her upright, protecting her from what she had become. From what she always had been. </p><p>Their days were numbered after this. Things were going to get dark, and fast. But in that moment, they could’ve been anything- even if the only way for that to be true was to be nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hihi thank u for reading this im @seannabriati on twitter if u wanna talk to me about wolf, specifically wolf wlw :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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